


Come Back For Me

by DaisukethePenguin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Am I doing this right?, First time tagging stuff, Gen, Harry saves Dean before Castiel, Master of Death Harry Potter, Season 4 AU, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:32:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3640314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisukethePenguin/pseuds/DaisukethePenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry unknowingly saves the world. Again. He really needs to start minding his own business, as the attention of Heaven and Hell turn toward The Master of Death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oh, Death

3:00 am

Harry had always found it easier to travel across Earth and Hell at 3:00 in the morning. It was at this time that the borders would blur and the barriers would fall and travel would become less exhausting and dangerous. Of course, he could travel at any time, but not without the possibility of becoming lost. The void between realms was filled with many paths that connected to other worlds and dimensions and the possibility of becoming lost was substantially high. It was at 3:00 am that a single path to the human realm and Hell would become easier to see than the others.

The strange tingle that he had associated with Hell danced across his skin, as he crossed the border and entered the fiery land. The muffled screams of agony and the many racks that filled the place were the same. Hell hadn’t changed since that last time he had been here. It was still the disorganized mess filled with tortured souls, fire, and demons.

3:10 am

He made sure to stick to the shadows; he didn’t have time for unwanted company since he needed to finish this job quick. He was on a time crunch, the 3:00 am path was only visible for an hour. At 4:00 am the path would become invisible making it impossible for him to leave Hell till the next day. A possibility he certainly did not want.

Harry really hoped that the Contract room would be a little more inviting than the mess he saw. He quietly walked down the corridors, opening door after door, searching for the Contract room.

3:20 am.

After opening the twelfth door to the left Harry found a large room filled with drawers that lined the walls. He had found the room of Demonic Contracts. Finally! As he made sure not to get spotted by the sleeping goon in the corner he searched for the name of his client, Gavin de Hart. A wealthy man who had sold his soul for the company he was going to lose. After searching for many ways of getting out of the deal, Mr. de Hart had contacted him and Harry had agreed to remove the contract, but not without a hefty fee.

Harry was in the business of providing his knowledge and services in the occult. It strangely started out with hunters asking for information on how to kill certain monsters, making charms and acquiring objects soon accompanied that. Then finally, Harry had begun offering his services of removing Demon deals, obviously only to those who could pay the large fee he requested. Though, this service was only known by a select few. It was dangerous and he only accepted if it was possible.

3:25 am

After five long minutes of searching, he found the name of his client, and pocketed the contract into his coat pocket. It was time to leave.  
He quietly exited the room and made his way down the previous corridors he had traversed. He suddenly stopped when he heard rapid guttural shouts nearing him. He quickly opened a door, and closed it behind him.

3:30 am

Harry had thirty-minutes to get to the top. He could do that. He just needed for the Demons outside to leave the vicinity.

“For that last friggin’ time I said, NO!” A tired, angry voice roared.

Harry startled, turning quickly to the man that hanged from a rack. Body broken, intestines spilling, and bloody, everything was covered in blood. He’s face was the only thing distinguishable from the mess of flesh in front of him. Harry winced.

“Shhhh.” Harry hushed, finger near his mouth signaling the man to keep quiet. Harry eyed the man, who had opened his eyes. The man looked awful. “You look like shit.”

“Bite me, asshole.” The man ground out, looking at the strange short man with green eyes.

Harry blinked, well that was different. A large smile came across his face, but not before he looked more at the soul of the man in front of him. The man’s soul was bright, not tainted or demonic. Harry neared the man, a small frown on his face as he became more and more confused. He tilted his head. What was the man doing down here? He clearly didn’t belong in Hell. “Why are you down here?” Harry whispered.

3:35 am

The man eyes narrowed, as Harry grew closer to examine him. “What are you playing at?” Harry looked down at his clock, and back at the man. He couldn’t leave the man here, but he really needed to leave soon. The man looked tired and scared and it reminded him much of himself. His stomach plummeted at the thought of leaving an innocent man in Hell. Harry closed his eyes, decision made. He reached into his pocket and took out a small dagger, releasing a small amount of energy as he blasted through the chains holding the man.

“Wha—What are you doing?” The man shouted, “I said no! I’m not going to do it! You can’t make me!”

“Shhhhh,”Harry hushed once more, “I heard you the first time, but I can’t just leave you here, now can I? Me and my saving people thing…” He grumbled.

The small spark of hope, lit the man’s eyes, but quickly burnt out. “I made a deal. I can’t leave.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Yeah, and what was this deal?” He asked, as he cut off the chains on the man’s hands first.

“That, if a demon brought my brother back to life, I would go to Hell after a year.”

“Hmmm. Well, I don’t understand what the problem is.” Harry paused, as he looked at the man’s incredulous face, “You did your part. You’re in Hell. And. Now. It’s. Time. To. Go.”

The man falls off the rack as the last chain is broken. Harry quickly catches him, and begins to repair and heal. “Who are you?” The man asked, and shakes his head before asking, “What are you?”

“Harry Potter, Master of Death.” Harry replied, a small smile on his face at the confused face of the man.

“What the Hell is a Master of Death?”

3:45 am

The man was called Dean Winchester, and he had been in Hell for almost three months now. That roughly equated to about 30 years in Hell. Harry winced at the thought of staying in Hell for so long, as he warily watched the man. The man’s soul was still bright, even with the long exposure to Hell and its horrors. That in itself was strange, but he had come to the conclusion that Dean Winchester was no ordinary human.

After a few minutes of silence they reached the barrier that blocked Hell from Earth.

“Grab my hand and don’t let go, Dean.” Harry requested, as he looks down at his clock once more.

“Why?”

Harry gave Dean a dark look, before hashing out, “I’ll leave you, if you continue to be this troublesome.”

Dean quickly gave Harry his hand, and in a loud snap, they were gone.

3:55 am


	2. Alive

For thirty years Dean had been strung on the rack—tortured until his screams were nothing more than sobbing whimpering whispers.

He had been whipped, stabbed, dismembered, and hanged. Only to be put back together to start all over again.

For ten thousand nine hundred fifty days Alastair had tried to break him. Make him lose himself to all the pain and suffering, whispering a sinful offer of salvation.

“It’s simple Dean.” Alastair whispered kindly, “No more pain. No more _anything_.” He circled Dean brandishing a single knife in front of Dean’s face.

“If you take this knife here…” Alastair placed the bloodied knife in Dean’s hand, “and slice this little soul here…” He said softly as he showed Dean a frightened soul of a middle age man strapped onto a table.

“No.”

“Wrong answer, Dean.”

Slice.

It had been like that for three decades until he had been saved by…by…by…what?

Dean couldn’t remember… and that scared him. He couldn’t have possibly imagined being saved…right?

The sudden wave of panic was damning.

Maybe he had been dreaming when the bespectacled man-thing barged into his room. It wouldn’t be the first time he had concocted a dream similar, so maybe…

No. Dean fought his way back into consciousness, his mind flickering back to a crooked smile and deathly presence. Deathly? Why—deathly?

The memories came in fragments.

An offer of salvation.

A black small dagger, cutting the chains that bounded him.

The brimstone air crackling with energy.

A crisp British accent saying:

_You did your part. You’re in Hell. And. Now. It’s. Time. To. Go._

Eerie green eyes staring into his soul.

_I’ll leave you, if you continue to be this troublesome, Dean._

A cold hand gripping his own.

Snap.

Dean jerked awake.

  
~0~

Harry lazily read a newspaper article called, "The Skinner with White Hair". The article described the recent mysterious killings of three college students on a popular hiking trail. The police believed the horrific murders were the work of a possible serial killer. This recent attack was just one of the many that the area has been suffering from as of late. The new psycho-killer skinned its victim alive, only leaving trails of white hair in the crime scene as some sort of sick calling card.

Harry paused suddenly from his afternoon reading, tilting his head to the side.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Death?” Harry asked to the room’s new arrival. He continued to read as the skeletal man roamed around the room, poking and staring at the many charms and objects that littered the space.

“Hello, Master.” Death’s hollow voice replied.

Without taking his eyes from the article, Harry gestured for the dark suited man to take a seat in front of his. The man nodded, taking a seat on the plushy blue couch. “What’s this?” Death curiously asked, reaching out toward a page lightly coated with sulfur.

“Don’t touch that.” Harry warned, tossing the newspaper article onto the messy coffee room table causing Death to sigh softly.

“I see that you’ve recently taken a trip to Hell, Master.” Death said pointedly, staring at the sulfur covered document.

Harry gave a small nod to Death’s statement, staring at dark eyes. “It was a few hours ago.”

“A contract, I presume?” Death asked lightly.

Harry curiously titled his head at Death. “Yes, why do you ask?”

Death shrugged. He was aware of his Master’s dealings with Hunters—the selling and buying of items and information, and the occasional removal of demon deals. He wasn’t particularly happy with the last service his Master offered, but because of how rarely his Master accepted such dealings, it was best to overlook it.

Only, mentioning his displeasure at his Master’s trips to Hell would cause his already fragile relationship with his Master to deteriorate further.

“Did you find anything of interest?” Death asked his dark eyes fixed on an innocent looking angel figure on the coffee table.

Harry frowned, his green eyes turning to slits, “Is there something you wish to say, Death?”

Death poked at the angel figuring, “Oh, not at all. Do you have any of those delicious biscuits?” Death suddenly asked. “They were quite good; I do hope you have some left. I haven’t eaten a thing since morning.”

Harry gave Death a distrustful look, before going to the kitchen. “Would you like some tea as well?” He called over his shoulder.

“That would be lovely.”

Harry rolled his eyes at the response, as he walked back into the room carefully placing down the tray of biscuits and tea. He quietly poured tea into a teacup, before placing it in front of Death. Death graciously tipped his head in gratitude before sipping his tea. Companionable silence enveloped the room as Death greedily ate the biscuits on the platter.

The comfortable silence established in those simple five minutes was suddenly broken by Death.

“They’re looking for you.”

Green eyes jerked upward. “What? Who’s looking for me?”

Death expectantly at his Master, “The contract wasn’t the only thing you took from Hell, was it?”

The silence that followed was far from the comfortable silence from minutes ago.

Death sighed, “Honestly, Master I thought you—”

“Death—”

“Wanted to be left alone, yet you raise Dean Winchester from—”

“Death—”

“The dead and now—”

“Enough!” Harry shouted, scowling at the skeletal man. “What the bloody blazes are you talking about? Who’s looking for me?”

“Heaven and Hell.” Death said calmly, standing from his seat to look out the closed curtained window.

Harry scowled, “What do those arseholes want with me?” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Death, when you say, ‘they’re looking for me,’ do you mean they know it was me?”

Death gave Harry a pointed look, “No, but very few can raise the dead, Master. It’s only a matter of time before they figure it out. You should be more careful when meddling in the affairs of Heaven and Hell.”

The bespectacled man removes his glasses, and rubs tiredly at his eyes. “Dean Winchester isn’t just some human, is he?” He winces as he remembers the man’s oddities— Dean’s soul. It was so bright and untainted that it didn’t look like a sinner’s soul. The man’s soul was breathtakingly beautiful, and so refreshing to see that Harry was surprised to see such a soul in Hell. When he had asked the man, he replied that he had sold his soul to save his brother.

How could he not get the man out of Hell for such a selfless deed? Dean Winchester obviously did not deserve to stay in Hell. However, it was strange, so strange to see a soul receive a private room torture room just for them. Dean Winchester was someone important to Hell, Harry concluded.

The sudden sound of a creaking door causes Harry to jerk out of his thoughts. His house guest was awake and roaming around the house. Harry could hear the man’s erratic heart beat and quiet footsteps cautiously walking down the hallway.

“Why is Heaven and Hell interested in Dean Winchester?” Harry asked carefully, almost not wanting the answer. A horrible feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

Death gives a hollow laugh at his Master’s questioning gaze. Dark eyes typically lifeless twinkled with delight as he motions his Master to come closer. “He’s the Vessel.”

Harry’s face paled at the news and glances to the second floor staircase. Scowling green eyes stare back at him. “Who the hell are you?” Dean barked with an iron poker in hand.

Harry slowly removes his gaze from Dean’s to look back at Death and frowns. The bastard was gone.

“Ah, bollocks.”

  
~0~

“Where is Dean Winchester?” Lilith asked with a small straining smile on her pretty face. “The rumors aren’t true, right?”

She circled the unfortunate demon, as she innocently licks a cherry lollipop. Her wide six year old eyes turn cold at the man’s silence. “Where is he?” She hissed.

“We—we don’t know.”

Lilith screamed and stomps her chubby legs on the floor. She quickly turns around and slits the possessed man's throat. A dark haze quickly flies out of the man and out a window. She reaches out for a wooden bowl and furiously calls upon Alastair.

“Alastair,” she pouts as the image of blood shifts to white eyes, “Tell me it isn’t true.”

Her eyes turn white at the news, “What do you mean he’s gone! Souls don’t just leave Hell!” Lilith bristled as Alastair continued to speak. “You mean to tell me that he hasn’t broken the first seal? You hadn't broken him, yet. And now he's gone?!”

The door to the little girl’s bedroom opens suddenly, an anxious voice calls out, “Honey, are you alright?” A middle-age woman enters the room and gasped at the sight of blood on her little girl’s dress. The woman’s brown eyes widen as her gaze falls onto her dead brother on the floor.

Lilith smiles to ‘her’ mother, “Yes, mommy Uncle Lenny gave me some bad news, so I killed him, so that he can never ever give me bad news ever again!” Lilith eyes twinkles at the woman’s pale face. “What’s wrong mommy? You wanna give me some bad news too?”

“No, sweetie.” The woman gagged, quickly shutting the door to her daughter’s bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first story I have posted online and as matter of fact I'm terrified. Don't know if anyone will read this, but eh. Also, not sure if I'll continue this story. Depends on the response I get. If I do continue, it will update slowly. I'm not kidding with how slow I'll be updating. Really, I'm not. Anyway, comments/likes/bookmarks are appreciated. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Hello everyone. I would like to thank you for all the kudos, comments, and follows that I have received. (I read all your comments! So please continue to review.) Originally I had planned this story to be a one-shot, but I have decided to make this a multi-chapter story. However, like I said in my previous A/N I will be updating this story pretty slowly… But don’t worry there’s good news. I WON’T EVER ABANDON THIS STORY. I promised myself long ago, that if I ever published a story–I would never abandon it. I hate reading great stories, with amazing plot and character development and find that they are left unfinished or abandoned. So, that won’t happen to this story. Just be aware that I will be updating this story slowly. Thanks for reading! P.S. this story is not beta’d so if you find any mistakes/grammar/ etc. don’t hesitate to message me.


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